Some Girls Are Bigger Than Others
by Tarie
Summary: It isn't easy being surrounded by vipers, not even when you're a Slytherin. This is a coming-of-age story focussing on Millicent Bulstrode and her struggles with her peers, her sexuality, her self-image, and her own sense of self-worth. (Character study of Millicent, not pairing-centric AT ALL. More of a GEN piece than anything, really.)


Millicent Bulstrode was fat.

She couldn't remember ever _not_ being fat.

Yes, she was fat. It wasn't as though she'd forgotten that fact or that she'd be forgetting it in the near future. She didn't need people to remind her that she was. That would be daft, really, and made about as much sense as it would for someone to remind her that she needed to breathe.

Yet people still insisted on reminding her that she was. Fat, that was. People being Pansy Parkinson, most specifically. At least, Pansy seemed to get the most joy out of doing such a thing.

Millicent sat in a carriage at the back of the Hogwarts Express alone. Some of her housemates had tried to come in and make themselves cosy earlier, but she quickly ran them out with threats of hexings and other vile things that she didn't really want to do to them anyway, not that they needed to know that. She had an image that she needed to uphold. To her schoolmates, Millicent appeared to be just some big, slow girl who would use violence - be it hexings or beatings - to communicate in most situations. Millicent had discovered at a very early age that pretending to be rough and tough saved her grief. Unfortunately, it didn't save _enough_ grief.

Most of the time when people said hateful things to her, she let it roll off her shoulders like water off a duck's back. Sometimes she would later fret about it and upset herself replaying the events behind the privacy of the drawn curtains on her four-poster, but rarely did she ever actually let her taunter see that he or she had hurt her. However, there were some people who knew how to twist the knife in her stomach just _so_ and get a reaction out of her on the spot, and Pansy Parkinson was one of those people.

Because she'd dozed off once or twice, Millicent hadn't realised that the train was very nearly at Hogwarts. That was why she'd been slumped in her seat, still in her summer clothes, drumming her fingers idly on the lid of Sylvania's basket. The cat purred in time with the clacking of Millicent's nails on the wicker and she smiled.

The smile faded when the door to her carriage hissed open and Pansy leaned inside, her prefect badge gleaming on her school robe.

"In here with all of your friends, Millie?" she asked, one perfectly-groomed brow arching mockingly.

Millicent grunted.

Pansy's eyes swept over her form and her pug nose wrinkled. "God, Millie, where's your head at? You ought to be in your school robe by now." With a pointed look at Millicent's middle, she added, "Or doesn't it fit over your fat arse anymore? You have gotten fatter over hols, you know."

Millicent's mouth set in a thin line and she sat up straight, staring up at Pansy evenly.

Pansy let out a huff when Millicent said nothing in return. "Change into your robe." With that, she slammed the door shut, leaving Millicent alone.

"Don't call me Millie," Millicent said long after the door clicked shut. There was a prickling behind her eyes and she blinked hard, then rubbed the back of her hand across her lids.

The train began to slow down and Millicent gathered up her cat basket and other luggage, shuffling out into the corridor and waiting by the door until the train came to a complete stop. She made her way with the crowd of other students to the exit from the station and waited on the side of the narrow road for the horseless stagecoaches. There were at least a hundred queued up, and Millicent was determined to get one to herself, one way or another. Weaving in and out of the throng of students, she elbowed a few Hufflepuff third years out of her way and climbed up into the musky interior, setting Sylvania's basket on the bench next to her. A flick and swish of her wand sent her luggage on top of the coach and another flick shut the door. Satisfied, Millicent settled down into her seat, thinking over the little exchange she'd just had on the train with Pansy. Although she was proud that she'd not wiped at her eyes while Pansy was still in her compartment, Millicent was angry with herself for letting Pansy to have got to her at all.

Millicent knew she was better than Pansy. Pansy was vain and insipid and followed Draco around like a bitch in heat. It was disgusting, really, the way she threw herself at him. It really was a disgrace to womanhood, Millicent thought, that Pansy went on the way she did regarding Draco. Draco Malfoy was fit, yes, and pureblooded, yes. Oh, and he had loads of money, or would when he left Hogwarts and had access to his trust fund. The Malfoys were one of the oldest and most respected wizarding families around, which made Draco a much sought-after bloke. Still, though. Pansy became something of a simpering, keening idiot around Draco. She hung on his every word, laughed at every quip, whether it was actually funny or not, and practically tripped over herself to hear him speak. What made her behaviour so disgusting to Millicent was that Pansy knew full well that Draco knew she did all of this, and she didn't think she was demeaning herself by bowing to his charisma and his every whim. The lot of other girls in their year that fawned after Draco in such a manner were daft and useless for the most part, but Pansy was different, Millicent thought. Pansy wasn't Millicent's favourite person. Truthfully, she hated her more often than not. But still, Pansy had a sharp mind and was very keen when it came to Ancient Runes and Potions. She also excelled at especially cruel jinxes, and most students avoided getting into tiffs with Pansy for that very reason. Pansy might be a formidable witch, but Millicent would never aspire to be like her. She was her own witch, fat and all, and she accepted that. Millicent knew she was better than Pansy because she would never, _ever_ sell herself short like Pansy did for the attentions of a wizard.

Just then the door to her coach opened, and Millicent started, her reverie interrupted. Up climbed Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis, who plopped down onto the bench across from her.

"Sorry," Millicent said coolly, "but this coach is full."

"Don't be silly, Millie. There's _certainly_ room for two more." Millicent stiffened as Pansy laughed just outside the coach, pushing a scrawny-looking boy up the stairs. He stooped down in the coach and Pansy stood behind him, rolling her eyes as she shut the door. "Sit _down_, Creevey." Shooting Millicent a slow smile that showed all of her teeth, she added, "_Now_ the coach is full."

Pansy took a seat on the bench with Millicent, picking up the cat basket and thrusting it at Daphne, who dutifully set the basket on her lap. Patting the space on the bench between her and Millicent, Pansy said, "Come now, Colin. _Do_ have a seat." Her voice was syrupy sweet and Millicent had the distinct feeling that she was not going to enjoy this coach ride to school.

Colin looked wide-eyed from Millicent to Pansy to the other girls and back again. "Hullo!" he said brightly to Millicent. Millicent thought he was a bit too cheery and jittery for her taste; she couldn't even _begin_ to imagine why Pansy would have invited Colin Creevey to ride to Hogwarts in a carriage full of Slytherin girls. He was younger than they were, a Gryffindor, a total barmpot over that insipid Harry Potter, and he was a _Mudblood_. It didn't make any sense, unless Pansy was planning on torturing him for sport or she'd made him come along to take her picture. He did have that camera strapped about his neck, after all.

"Hullo," Millicent returned cautiously, pressing herself into the furthest corner of the bench that she could when Colin took the space Pansy had offered. Someone - either Tracey or Daphne - snickered and Millicent shot them both a dirty look. Pansy crossed her ankles delicately and angled herself toward the centre of the coach. "What's going on here?" Millicent demanded suddenly.

"Going on?" Tracey asked before dissolving into giggles.

"We don't know, Mil," Daphne said nonchalantly, opening up the lid on the cat basket a crack, reaching a hand in and petting Sylvania. "Why don't you tell us?"

Millicent didn't like this. Not one bit. One-on-one, she liked Daphne and Tracey, but when they got together and Pansy was around? She rather wanted to throttle them.

"I would," she ground out through gritted teeth. "But I don't know what the sodding hell is going on. That's why I _asked_."

Just then Pansy clucked her tongue, making that wishy-washy sympathetic sound that Millicent hated, particularly when her mother made it. "Now girls," she interjected. "Don't be so catty. We're here to _help_ Millicent, remember?"

Tracey nodded automatically while Daphne sighed. "We remember," they said together.

"Help?" Millicent asked suspiciously. Beside her, Colin fiddled with the strap on his camera.

"How long has it been since you've snogged a bloke?" Pansy asked, placing her hands on her knees and prominently displaying her perfect manicure.

Millicent scooted forward on her seat and peered over at Pansy disbelievingly. Had Pansy really asked what she just... One look at the twin snide expressions on Tracey and Daphne's faces said it all; Millicent certainly had heard Pansy correctly.

"That isn't any of your business," she said gruffly, swallowing hard against the lump that had risen in her throat.

"But I think it is," Pansy insisted softly, wearing a smile that Millicent knew was faker than her tits, if that was possible. Everyone knew that Pansy had come back from Christmas break last year with a bit more breast in the chest, and Millicent highly doubted she'd had some sort of growth spurt.

"It isn't." Millicent's hands clenched into fists, her hails digging into her skin. This was just...hadn't Pansy gotten enough satisfaction out of humiliating her on the train earlier? What had Millicent ever done to Pansy, anyway, besides breathe the same air? They had never been friendly but Millicent certainly hadn't wronged Pansy in the past. In fact, she'd even defended Pansy back in second year when one of those mad Hufflepuffs accused Pansy of being the Heir of Slytherin and petrifying Filch's cat and all those other git students. There wasn't any real reason for Pansy to be so cruel to her.

"Kiss Millicent, Colin," said Pansy smoothly, ignoring Millicent.

"What?!" Millicent choked, glaring at everyone in the coach in turn. The glare she gave Creevey was extra hateful. "If you so much as breathe on me, I'll rip your bollocks out and make you grind them with your conk."

"You said she fancied me!" Colin squeaked, moving closer to Pansy.

Millicent sputtered and Pansy patted Colin's knee. "She's just playing hard to get, Creevey."

"I am _not_," Millicent said defensively.

One of Pansy's brows shot up and she laughed, leaning over and taking the cat basket from Daphne. Pulling the lid up, Pansy pulled Slyvania out and held her against her chest. "You're so amusing, Millie. _Really_."

"So you don't fancy me?" Colin asked uncertainly, his eyes darting from Millicent to Pansy.

"N-"

Pansy cut Millicent off quickly. "Now, now, Millie. You don't want to hurt the poor wittle Gryffindor's feelings, do you? I'd _hate_ for that to happen, because I just have this _feeling_ that something dreadful would happen to Sylvania here if you were to be unkind to Creevey."

Millicent's mouth gaped open. Pansy clearly knew she'd won, because she stroked the cat slowly as a large, smug smile spread on her face. "Show him how much you fancy him, Millie. Kiss him."

Millicent's stomach twisted into knots. She wanted to scream and thrash and curse and punch Pansy Parkinson right in that pug nose of hers. Just when she thought that Pansy couldn't sink any lower, she went and scraped a bit more off the bottom of the proverbial pond.

This was the most vile thing she had ever known Pansy to do - force Millicent to snog Creevey or have her cat injured or killed. Millicent didn't want to snog Creevey because it was _Creevey_ and she definitely didn't want her first snog to be with a Mudblood Gryffindor, of all people.

If she were being completely honest with herself, Millicent _was_ a bit curious as to what snogging was all about, but she'd be damned if she'd find out in front of Pansy Parkinson and her other bitchy room-mates. She didn't know how to snog; what if she did it all wrong and Creevey gagged or something? What if they laughed at her? What if she died of embarrassment right there?

Sometimes Millicent wished that she was a stronger person. A stronger person would have told Pansy to bugger off the very moment she'd ordered Millicent to snog Creevey. A stronger person would have told Pansy to bugger off, taken back her cat, and hexed the bint's gob right off. But Millicent wasn't a stronger person. Even if she was broad and could physically overpower most people, she tended to be weak on the inside, too caught up in her doubts and feelings to take charge and fight off the real enemies. Pansy was one of the real enemies she couldn't fight off and she _hated_ that.

So that was why Millicent leaned in, her heart thudding madly in her chest, and snogged Colin Creevey, Mudblood Gryffindor.

It was _awful_.

His lips were wet and kind of squishy and he slurped all over her. The other occupants in the coach whistled and laughed and called out and Millicent's cheeks burned. She'd dealt with a lot of unpleasantness over the years, but this was by far the most unpleasant thing she'd ever experienced. She tried to pull back from Creevey - she _wanted_ to very badly - but Pansy started barking out instructions.

"Move closer! Tilt your head! No, not that way, the other way! Open your mouth a bit, Millie! Stick your tongue in there, Creevey!"

Oh _God_.

Creevey followed every last one of Pansy's instructions, thrusting his tongue awkwardly into Millicent's mouth when her lips and teeth parted just so. Millicent gasped at the invasion and reeled, but then there was a flurry of motion and a pair of firm hands pushing her forward against Creevey, holding her there. Millicent was too shocked from both Creevey's tongue and the hands on her shoulders to resist. Creevey's tongue moved against hers and then flicked along the ridges on the roof of her mouth before sloppily sliding between her teeth and the softness of the back of her lower lip.

Millicent gagged and struggled, breaking free of what she knew to be Pansy's gasp, falling hard against the wall of the coach. There was a loud 'oof' as Pansy fell arse-backward to the floor but Millicent didn't give a toss about her. She was more concerned about herself, as the back of her head cracked off the window when she'd flown back. Wincing, she wiped at her mouth and leaned across Creevey, her hand brushing against something in the vicinity of his lap that she really did not want to think about, and grabbed her cat from Daphne, who must have taken Sylvania again when Pansy had got up.

Creevey wore a slightly dazed expression and reached for Millicent's hand. She slapped it as hard as she could manage and he hissed in pain.

"Don't. Touch. Me."

Between Pansy, Tracey, and Daphne, word had got out rather quickly to the entire school about Millicent snogging Colin in the coach. She couldn't go anywhere for weeks without having someone stare at her or interrupt people whispering about her. Usually the whispers were little pity parties for Colin. She'd heard one girl say she felt sorry for Colin because only a desperate fat girl would snog him. Another girl had said Colin had been lucky, that Millicent was the size of a hippogriff and he was lucky she hadn't crushed him. The conversations she'd overheard boys having, however, were different. There were some that agreed with those awful girls about Millicent being fat and desperate, but most of the male conversations she'd happened upon were crude and despicable. Probably the least offensive comment out of the lot was from a pasty-faced Ravenclaw she'd had a few classes with last year. He'd said that he'd "shag that large piece of arse" because there was "more to love and all that" and that Millicent would want to "make the most of any shag that'll come her way" because it wasn't likely she'd have maybe more than one or two opportunities her whole life. "Who in their right mind would want to take up with _that_?" he'd added as he and his mates took a corner at the end of the corridor and went out of earshot.

Millicent tried to tell herself that anything those fuckwits said didn't matter, that they wouldn't amount to anything and that, in a year or two after they all left Hogwarts, their hurtful words wouldn't matter to her anymore. The only thing that ought to matter, she repeated to herself over and over, was her own opinion of herself. Millicent liked herself most of the time, even if she knew she could stand to lose some weight. But lately it was harder and harder to remember that. She felt more alone than she could ever remember, even in a room full of people. In class or in the Great Hall or even in the library, Millicent wished she could curl into herself and just disappear. Feeling as though everyone was talking about you or whispering about you or laughing about you was exhausting, both physically and emotionally. If she weren't so scared of Azkaban, Millicent would have gleefully killed Pansy, Tracey, and Daphne for doing this to her- and she didn't even like to think about doing those sorts of things normally!

The only people who didn't seem to talk or whisper about Millicent or laugh at her were Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott. Draco was so self-involved that Millicent figured he couldn't be arsed to waste his energy on anyone who wasn't him, so his lack of involvement in the rampant Millicent-torment going about the castle didn't impress her. She wouldn't be surprised if Draco didn't even know anything had happened between her and Creevey, honestly. Theo, however, did impress her. He openly challenged people who took the mickey out of Millicent and threatened to hex more than a few people on her account. The first few times he did so, Millicent was taken aback. Normally Theo kept to himself; he was well-known in Slytherin for his aloofness. Theo rarely spoke up in class and he never went to any of the Quidditch matches; he was something of a loner.

Millicent was something of a loner herself these days, even more than usual.

The first big Quidditch match of the year always took place in November. Slytherin vs Gryffindor. Everyone in Slytherin went to the match, save for the two biggest loners.

Ever since the ride in the coach, Creevey would come up to Millicent from time to time and try to strike up a conversation. His idea of conversation was asking her to Hogsmeade and trying to hold her hand. Millicent was tired of telling him to piss off and didn't want to endure the hoots and hollers that would undoubtedly come if he tried to do something like that at the match. That was reason enough for her not to go, so she didn't. Instead, she stayed in the common room and read ahead in her Potions book. She became so immersed in it that she hadn't even when noticed Theo sat beside her until he said hello. Millicent jumped and then gave him a glare out of habit. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Same thing as you." Theo shrugged and stretched his long legs out in front of him. "Avoiding the lot of gits."

Warily, Millicent closed her book and set it aside, eyeing him curiously. "Why would you be avoiding them, exactly?" It wasn't like he was being continually humiliated in front of the entire school or anything.

"I don't like them," he said simply, looking at her evenly.

"I don't either," she returned haltingly.

Theo laughed a loud, barking laugh, his mouth stretching in a broad smile. His teeth were huge and white and gleaming and he looked so ridiculous that Millicent couldn't help but to laugh as well.

And it felt _good_ to laugh. She couldn't remember the last time she'd laughed this sort of laugh, one that was from deep down in the belly and full of mirth and joy. She hadn't had much to be happy about lately, after all.

Millicent didn't know how long their laughter went on, but by the time both of their screeches tapered off Millicent's sides positively _ached_ and her face hurt from grinning.

"You have a nice laugh," Theo panted, struggling to catch his breath as he wiped tears of laughter from his eyes.

"Thanks." Millicent averted her eyes and counted to ten in her head, trying to get ahold of her breathing. She lost count after four, too distracted by the warmth in her cheeks and the way Theo was watching her. "Do you want to go to the kitchen?" she heard herself ask. "We could get some cider and bring it back."

There was a long pause and then Theo nodded. "Yeah," he said quietly. "I'd like that."

"So would I," Millicent said just as quietly, suddenly feeling very shy.

As they made their way to the kitchen, Millicent kept stealing sidelong glances as Theo while he talked. He was more interesting than she'd ever given him credit for before and he made her feel comfortable, even when there were potentially deadly-awkward silences in their conversation. It was nice to be in the company of someone who wasn't judging or laughing at her, and she was a bit annoyed with herself that she'd never really taken the opportunity to get to know him better until then.

He stopped suddenly toward the end of the corridor and so Millicent did as well, giving him a quizzical look.

"In here," Theo grinned, pulling open a door on the left and disappearing inside.

Millicent stood out in the corridor alone for a minute or two, wondering what was going on, before following him. "Theo?" she said, wincing as the door slammed shut behind her.

"Over here."

Millicent squinted in the semi-darkness, spotting him in the back of the old classroom, sitting atop of a teacher's desk. He patted the space beside him and she made her way over to the desk, hoisting herself up. Her legs swung back and forth and Theo lay a hand on her knee. "Hi," he whispered, his face suddenly very close to hers.

"Hullo." Millicent blinked.

"Millicent? Can I ask you something?"

He was very close now, so close that she could feel his breath on her skin. His eyes were hazel; she could see the flecks of amber and green and she thought it was odd that the rims of his irises were thick and black. So pretty. His eyes were so pretty and so close and her heart was doing odd things. It was beating very fast but skipping and her skin was all tingly and-

"Millicent?"

"Yes!" She grimaced. "I mean, yes, you can ask me something. Sorry."

"Can I kiss you?"

She inhaled sharply; he _wanted_ to kiss her? A voice in the back of her mind piped up, telling her she ought to be careful, that this wasn't right, that he was likely using her and she'd regret it. But another, louder voice cut in, insisting that he wasn't out to play her, that he'd been defending her for weeks to arses who talked shite about her, that he was _different_, that she felt sort of...special...around him, or at least that's how it seemed like she was feeling, and that she ought to take a chance on something for once in her life instead of letting everything good pass her by.

Millicent decided to take a chance. She leaned in and pressed her lips against Theo's in answer to his question. He gasped against her mouth and her lips parted reflexively and then his gasp went _into_ her mouth and it was the oddest yet brilliant sensation. A giggle welled up and Millicent pulled back, but it didn't last long because Theo wrapped a large hand around the base of her neck and drew her close once more. Their mouths met in another kiss and, feeling bold, Millicent ran her tongue along his lower lip. The hand on her knee moved higher on her leg and she squirmed closer to him. She couldn't believe that it would feel this good to be kissing someone, not when her first kisses had been so ruddy disastrous. But this _did_ feel good and it was hard to believe that a boy was kissing her like this, that a boy was inching his hand further and further up her leg and under her skirt, that a boy was pushing her back onto the desk like Theo was.

That annoying voice in her head spoke up again, telling her she was being daft and careless and she shoved it aside, moaning a little when Theo's wiry frame covered hers. All she wanted to do was concentrate on the way his lips were moving against hers and the way his hand was-

_God_.

His hand, his _fingers_ slipped under her knickers and he was _touching_ her.

This wasn't something she'd been expecting. Millicent didn't know if she should tell him to stop or tell him it was all right or why her centre felt hot and wet at the same time or why her hips were lifting off of the desk as his fingers ran down through her coarse curls.

He was touching her. He was touching her and she was a big girl and what if her fat put him off?

Somehow through the haze that was settling around her, Millicent realised that she ought to do what she could to make herself appear less fat, because what bloke would want to be touching a fat bird like her? Millicent pulled in her stomach as much as she could, gritting her teeth under the effort of _not_ letting her stomach hang back out again, although it was bloody hard to focus on doing something like that when Theo's fingers were touching the most intimate part of her like they were now. His hand pressed down on her and she sank back fully on the desk, her legs falling further apart. With his unoccupied hand, he shoved her knickers to the side and then leaned down to kiss her again. Millicent tried to kiss back but it was hard when she was trying so much to keep her belly sucked in and the tips of his fingers were moving lightly along the outer edges of her folds. Then Theo's tongue was in her mouth and there was a finger inside her and she forgot all about focussing on pretending she had a flat belly, her stomach ballooning out. She could feel it jiggle but she didn't care; there was a _finger_ inside her and it hurt. It didn't just kind of hurt, it bloody fucking hurt like a bugger! Millicent stiffened beneath him, her eyes stinging with unshed tears. He either didn't take notice or didn't care because in went another finger and he jerked his hand around, fingers moving roughly inside her.

Millicent didn't _like_ this. It didn't feel good. And asking to kiss her wasn't the same as asking to shove his fucking fingers up inside her.

"Get off me," she choked, hands finding purchase on his jumper and shaking him. He ignored her, rubbing and rutting himself on her leg, wiggling his fingers around in her cunt. She whimpered in pain and then slid her hands in between their bodies. Using all of her strength, she pushed _up_ and Theo went reeling back, falling on his arse. Wheezing, Millicent hastily fixed her clothing and stood up.

"Don't you ever come near me again," she said, glaring down at Theo venomously. "Or I'll rip off your cock and shove it in your chocolate biscuit." Millicent kicked him in the bollocks for good measure - something she'd never done to a bloke before but God if Theodore Nott didn't fucking deserve it right then - and slammed the door behind her before running all the way back to Slytherin.

Sometime while she had been out with Nott the Quidditch game must have ended because her housemates were back and a celebration was in full swing. Millicent tried to bypass the festivities but Goyle caught her by the elbow before she could disappear down the girls' corridor, blathering on to her about how many bludgers he'd sent at Potty and the Weasel. Millicent nodded wordlessly as Goyle went on, edging closer and closer to the corridor. Across the room stood Malfoy, flanked on either side by Sally-Anne Perks and Pansy, both of whom were positively gushing over him. Millicent inadvertently caught his eye and he nodded at her, seemingly grateful for a distraction from the drivel at his elbows, one corner of his mouth quirking. Her stomach flipped and Millicent looked away, attributing it to nerves and nausea over what had just happened to her.

Malcolm Baddock walked in just then, carrying a tray of treacle tart. Goyle became distracted by the food and Millicent slipped away. She didn't want to be anywhere near Theodore Nott anymore than she wanted to be anywhere near daft, idiotic girls swooning over Draco Malfoy.

Usually Millicent went home for Christmas holiday, but she didn't this year. She didn't want to take the coaches down to Hogsmeade and have a repeat of what happened on the coach _to_ Hogwarts at the beginning of the school year and she didn't want to deal with Pansy popping in her carriage on the train to snipe at her, and she certainly didn't want to risk being in any sort of small enclosed space with Theodore Nott - Millicent wouldn't put it past him to try to get into her carriage to 'apologise' to her or some shite. Her mum and older sister weren't too happy with her decision to remain at Hogwarts, but Millicent wasn't about to change her mind. If she went home, Millicent would have to put on a smile and lie about how school's been so far and pretend to be fine. Millicent was quite far from fine.

Millicent was quite far from fine and she was extremely grateful when the students going home for hols departed. All of her room mates left and she finally had the privacy in her room she'd been craving ever since the incident with Nott. Not a day had gone by since then that she didn't think about it, that she didn't want to scream and sob and let out all her pent-up emotions so she could at least try to move on. Because one of the girls was _always_ around, Millicent hadn't been able to do that. No matter how much she'd wanted to, she didn't let herself do that around them. After the way they treated her in that coach, no way in sodding hell would she appear vulnerable around them if she could help it.

When the time had come and gone for the Hogwarts Express to depart for London, only then did Millicent allow herself to open up the flood gates to all the emotion she'd kept stored up over the past few weeks. Beating her fists against her pillow and mattress, Millicent sobbed. It was cathartic to just cry and cry, to let huge tears roll down her face, to hold her arms to her chest and rock, to just _be_. She swore to herself that this was the one and only time she was going to cry over what Theodore Nott did to her. After today, she was going to forget about it, move on, and work on being the strong person everyone else seems to think she is.

It was dark and stars had already begun to dot the inky sky before her tears finally subsided.

The next morning Millicent padded into the common room, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes as she headed toward the door. A small handful of second and third year students occupied the couch by the fireplace and she sniffed as she walked past them; from the slight stench of smoke in the air, it was obvious they'd been playing Exploding Snap for a good while.

"Millicent."

Halfway to the door, she stopped, turning toward the sound of her name.

"Draco," she greeted, eyes lifting in surprise. "I didn't realise you were staying."

He rose out of his chair and stopped in front of her, hands settling into his trouser pockets. "It isn't as though my holiday will be any more interesting at home," he said, his face a neutral mask.

It took Millicent but a second to discern what he meant by that and she felt badly all of a sudden, as though she ought to change the direction of the conversation quickly before it became incredibly uncomfortable. Gesturing toward the younger students, she said, "What, as if watching those ickle ones singe each other's eyebrows off _isn't_ interesting?"

Draco followed her gaze and, after a beat, one corner of his mouth turned up the tiniest of degrees. "Perhaps just a little interesting."

Millicent nodded, unsure of what else to say. She'd been in Draco's year all this time yet she didn't know him, not really. But what she knew about and what she noticed while observing him was more than enough to keep her cautious and alert while in his presence. He'd always seemed so smarmy and as though he thought he was better than everyone else. Girls wanted to be with him and boys wanted to be him, from what Millicent could tell. She didn't fit into either of those ideologies and, for once, she wished she did, as at least then she'd likely know things about him other than what she read in the papers or overheard classmates say. If she knew more than superficial things about him, maybe she could strike up a proper conversation, or say something that didn't make her look like a complete plonker.

It wasn't that she was worried about looking like a plonker in front of Draco because he was Draco Malfoy; Millicent was like this whenever she was one-on-one with anyone. Well, anyone who wasn't a stupid goody-goody Gryffindor or a Mudblood. Millicent hated feeling so uncomfortable whenever she was in a situation like this, where she felt obligated to make small talk and be civil and interesting. She didn't think she was interesting, far from it. Fat and boring and worthless for the most part. That's what Millicent thought she was. Every once in a great while, Millicent would feel good about herself and tell herself that she was worthwhile and had talents, but inevitably one bad thing or another would happen and she'd feel foolish for building herself up like that.

Painfully aware of the silence that had lapsed between them, Millicent shifted her weight and forced a smile, something that felt foreign on her face. "I guess we're the only sixth-years here, then," she said lamely. As soon as she said it, she regretted it. She honestly hadn't a clue whether or not any of the other boys in their year stayed. The only one she knew for certain had gone home for hols was Nott. There she went again, setting herself up to look ridiculous. It seemed that she didn't always need to fall prey to the pettiness of a select few of their housemates to do so.

Mercifully, Draco nodded and she felt a rush of relief. "None of the seventh-year students stayed, either." He quirked a brow. "It would seem that you and I are in charge of Slytherin during hols, Millicent."

"In charge?"

"Making sure none of those ickle ones" - he waved a hand casually at the younger students - "make a mess of things. Someone has to lead by example and show them what being a Slytherin truly means."

If Millicent didn't know any better, she would have sworn there was a mischievous twinkle in those grey eyes of his.

"Right," Millicent said slowly, staring at a spot on Draco's shoulder. Right.

It sounded to Millicent as though Draco was insinuating they ought to spend a lot of time together over hols, and she wasn't sure which thought she had about all that to latch onto first: Nott had bragged about what he'd done with Millicent to the other boys. Draco actually _had_ heard what went on between her and Creevey and wanted to set her up like Nott had done. He was just making conversation with her to get her hopes up before crushing them in one fell swoop. He was grateful to have someone normal to talk with that didn't want to hang on his every word in order to impress him and win his affection. He was bored and wanted to hear himself talk, so Millicent was doing nothing but serving as his sounding board. Any one of those things could have been the reason Draco was standing there talking to her, but Millicent didn't know which was the right one.

Suddenly she felt daft that she was analysing Draco's motivation as much as she was. That was something _Pansy_ and all the other girls in their year would do. This wasn't something that Millicent wanted to be doing; she shouldn't _care_ why Draco Malfoy was talking to her. She ought to just treat this like it was an exchange with anyone else and not give meaning to every little thing that was said or not.

Millicent had to get away from Draco. Things were getting awfully dodgy for her and she didn't like it or want it. "Right," she said again, trying to laugh to cover up her sudden anxiety. The noise came out sounding like a cross between a choke and a bray. Draco tilted his head and studied her and she felt _mortified_. "I've got to go talk to...Professor Snape. I guess I'll see you around, Draco," she blurted, turning on her heel and rushing out of the common room.

She actually didn't know where she was headed; Millicent just sped down the corridor and turned this way and that, blood pounding in her ears.

Fuck. Why had she just been such a _girl_ around Draco? He was Draco Malfoy. She hated girls who acted the way she just had around him. Plus, she was fat and had no right to act like that; it only made her look more idiotic to everyone than she usually did.

Maybe she should have gone home for hols after all.

After she'd fled from Slytherin, Millicent had had vague thoughts of avoiding Draco for the next few days. Embarrassed and self-conscious, she didn't want to deal with him or the possibility that she would start acting like a twittering git again. However, it wasn't possible to entirely evade him, thanks to Dumbledore.

Dumbledore had Banished all of the tables in the Great Hall save for one, so everyone - staff and students alike - dined at one long table together. As Millicent would rather snog a bowtruckle than sit beside someone from another house, she resigned herself to sitting between two of the ickle Slytherins she'd pointed out to Draco. They were both rather annoying, one with his slurping sounds and the other with her stream of incessant chatter. Millicent was so grateful when someone walked up behind them and told the younger girl to move that she would have wept had it not betrayed her image.

But then the girl moved and Millicent saw just who had commandeered her seat - Draco.

"Hullo, Millicent," he said smoothly, sliding onto the bench beside her.

"Hullo," she muttered, pulling her goblet of eggnog closer.

"You're going to do something for me."

Millicent sat up straight at that. Laying her elbows on the table, she turned her face toward him and gave him a hard look. "No."

"No?" Draco looked affronted and Millicent realised that he was probably not used to hearing the word 'no'. Too bloody bad for him.

"No," she repeated, her attention returning to her plate. Considering the conversation over, she speared a bit of aubergine and chewed, ignoring the stewing going on beside her.

"Tell me what other pressing engagements you have that will prevent you from doing something for me, Millicent."

Oh, now _that_ did it. Dropping her fork to the table with a clatter, Millicent whirled around to face Draco.

"You have a lot of fucking nerve, Draco," she said in a low voice. "It's not any of your bloody business what I do or do not do, and I'm certainly not obligated to do anything for the likes of _you_. You want something done? Do it yourself." Angry and wanting him to ignore her, go away, or both, her eyes flickered to his lap back up to his face. "I hear you lot in the boys dorm are good at getting off- I mean, _doing_ things for yourselves."

Draco's mouth set in a thin line. "You're revolting," he sneered.

"Yeah, well, that's nothing new, Draco. You want to insult me? Come back when you think up something original."

Millicent didn't want to wait around anymore for him to up and leave, so she was the one who did the leaving. Again. Throwing her serviette in his face, Millicent got up from the table and stalked out of the Great Hall.

"I've thought up something original."

Millicent lifted her eyes from the book she was reading and found herself staring at Draco. Bugger. "It only took you three days," she said coolly. "Congratulations. You must be exhausted from thinking so hard."

"If you want to know the truth-"

"I don't," Millicent interrupted, going back to her book. "You can sod off now, Draco. I'm not interested in anything you have to say. It isn't like you mean it, anyway."

A hand reached into her line of vision and yanked her book away. "Oi! Give that back!" Standing up, she reached out and grabbed for her book, but Draco held it high above his head.

"No."

"Give it back!"

"No."

Scowling, she dropped her arm to her side. "You're an arse."

"Well, well," Draco drawled, holding Millicent's book to his chest. "Isn't that the cauldron calling the kettle black?"

"Piss off," she snarled, thrusting a hand inside her robe.

"Now, now," Draco tutted, drawing his wand with his free hand and training it on her. "I'd get my hand off of my wand if I were you."

Defeated, Millicent slowly withdrew her hand from the inside of her robe. "What do you _want_?" she asked irritably.

"I want you to do something for me."

"I thought you told me you thought up something original. I've heard this story before," she snapped.

"I want you to help me with something," Draco amended. Giving her a challenging look, he added, "Is that better?"

Why did Draco Malfoy need _her_ help? What could she possibly do that would help him with _anything_?

Pansy's smirking face loomed into view, morphing into Colin Creevey's eager one and then Theodore Nott's deceptively pleasant one. Oh. Oh God it _figured_. This was some sort of- Draco wanted her to- Just because she was fat and stupid and had been _used_ didn't mean she was putting herself out there on the market like some damned _tart_. What kind of person was he to even think that Millicent would be like that? And to think, all this time Millicent had thought Draco hadn't been aware of anything that had gone on with her this school year! She felt positively sick to her stomach.

"It isn't better," she said, her voice shaking. "It isn't better and I _hate_ you."

Millicent didn't think that telling someone she hated him was amusing, but apparently Draco did because he actually _laughed_. He laughed and shook his head. "You sure know how to charm a bloke, Millicent."

"I'm not trying to charm you, you complete bastard!" Bile rose in her throat and Millicent gagged, lunging at Draco. He side-stepped her easily and she fell forward onto her knees. Hair fell in her eyes and she didn't even bother to fight back a sob, pressing her palms to her face.

"I know you're not. Here. Take it." There was a warm, strong grasp on her wrist and then one hand was being tugged away from her face. "Take it," Draco repeated, crouching down and placing her book on her lap.

Gulping for air, Millicent nodded wordlessly, both hands clutching her book to her chest.

"I don't hate you," Draco said conversationally, straightening. "But if it makes you feel better, Millicent, by all means continue to hate me. It makes life interesting." Turning a small trophy on the mantle in the opposite direction, he added, "Come find me when you feel like talking. I may be an arse, but occasionally I enjoy being an ear as well. Change can be rewarding."

"Whatever," Millicent mumbled, stumbling to her feet.

This time, Draco was the one to leave first, giving her a low bow before disappearing down the corridor to the boys' dormitories.

On Boxing Day, Millicent decided she was finally ready to talk to Draco, or at least find out what he wanted.

She'd been replaying their conversation over the past few days and Millicent decided that she'd been a bit of a pill, assuming things about Draco and taking it out on him before learning just what it was he _really_ wanted. Millicent didn't like that she'd become this way, so quick to judge and condemn. If there was anyone at Hogwarts who ought to know how utter shite it was for people to point fingers and cast judgement before getting to know someone, it was Millicent. People had always dismissed her as being the slow fat girl (although this year the labels of 'easy' or 'tart' had been added to her resume, apparently) and they never took the time to actually get to know _her_, to see if there was more to Millicent Bulstrode than rolls of fat, a mean right hook, and a well-timed hex. It was time she gave Draco the benefit of the doubt that she never seemed to get herself.

She found him outside in the courtyard, making a snowman by himself. As she neared him, she spied a Gryffindor scarf in his hand, watching as he wound it around the snowman's neck.

"What Gryffindor did you torture to get that?" Millicent called, stopping a few feet away from him to rub her hands together and blow on them.

He turned and shot her a sly smile. "It isn't torture if they're asking for it, now is it?"

"No," Millicent said, eyeing the snowman critically. "I suppose it isn't."

Her eyes roamed over the snowman, pausing on its face. He'd used runes for its eyes, the hilt of a broken wand for a nose, and what looked like candy floss for the mouth. She noticed something else about its face and gasped.

"Is that-" She turned to Draco and arched a brow. "That's Potter, isn't it?"

"What makes you say that?" he asked innocently.

Millicent rolled her eyes. "The disgusting scar in the middle of its forehead gives it away, Draco."

"Damn," Draco said, but he didn't sound terribly disappointed at her discovery.

"It needs specs," she said.

"It does," he agreed.

Glancing around, Millicent spotted a twig nearby. Brandishing her wand, she Summoned it over and Transfigured it into a pair of ratty specs, handing them to Draco. "You do the honours. It is your masterpiece, after all."

"Thanks," Draco said, his fingers curling over the specs.

Millicent flushed; the tips of his fingers brushed against her palm as he slid the specs away from her. "You're welcome."

The specs sat on the snowman at an odd angle, something which neither Draco nor Millicent bothered to correct. Instead, they stood back and admired Draco's work for a long while in silence. Millicent stole a few glances at him, wondering what he was thinking. He was so different than how she'd thought; she realised that now. Being outside, away from Slytherin and the confines of the castle...it was nice. Very nice. It almost seemed like they were the only two people in the world - Draco and Millicent and Potter the Speccy Git Snowman - and Millicent didn't think she'd mind at all if that were the case.

Beside her, Draco reached inside his cloak and pulled out his wand. Saying nothing, Millicent watched as he methodically swished and flicked his wand at the snowman. "_Incendio_." The Gryffindor scarf and all the bits making up Speccy Snowman Git's face went up in flames and the snowman melted until there was nothing left but a puddle with charred bits of wood and ash floating in it. Draco exhaled slowly and tucked his wand back in his cloak.

"I hate him," Draco said, staring hard at the puddle at their feet.

"It makes life interesting," Millicent said, tugging on his elbow. "Come on. It's cold out here."

"Colder than a witch's tit." Draco laughed, but it didn't sound like he really wanted to do that at all. It sounded forced, like he was trying to pretend he was all right.

"That's disgusting," Millicent said faintly, too busy studying the odd glint in his eyes and the lines in his forehead to be cross about that horrid old cliche that always irked her.

"That's me, Disgusting Draco," he returned, falling in step beside her. Snow crunched under their feet and their shoulders brushed against one another as they walked back to the castle.

"I'm Ugly Millicent, pleased to meet you," Millicent said, reaching across his front and taking a hand, shaking it solemnly. She dropped it, shook her head, and moved to start up again, but Draco's hand found hers and urged her to stay still. "What?" she asked, looking up at him curiously.

"You're not ugly, Millicent."

_Yes I am,_ Millicent wanted to say. _Fat and ugly and why are you talking to me?_ But she didn't say those things. Instead, she said, "Neither are you."

"No," Draco grinned. "I'm not. I gave that up, actually. I stopped."

Glad for the chance for the exchange to shift into being playful and teasing instead of turning serious like she'd thought his 'you're not ugly' comment might lead things to be, she felt herself grinning as well. "And just who," she said, "gave you permission to stop being ugly?"

"Snape," Draco deadpanned. "He wrote me a note." Patting at his cloak, he murmured, "I'm sure I've got it in here somewhere. Just give me a minute..."

Millicent stopped and watched him, amused. He put on a big show about running his hands over the outside of his cloak and turned out each pocket on the inside for her, whistling innocently when a few dungbombs fell out of one. She laughed and for a moment a twinge of panic rose - the last time she'd laughed like this with someone, he'd taken advantage of her. But then Draco handed her a dungbomb and told her to use it if he dared to get ugly again, and she knew that things were different. Draco wasn't Nott. He wasn't asking to kiss her and he wasn't trying to touch her or anything else dodgy. All he was doing was keeping her company and she was glad.

"Cold," she said again, grabbing his elbow once more. "I believe Snape gave you a note. Honestly." More light-hearted than she'd been in months, Millicent opened the door to the castle and followed Draco inside. Closing the door behind them, she brushed the snow off her cloak and followed him down the corridor. "Draco?"

"Yeah?"

"What was it? That you wanted my help with?"

"Oh, don't worry about it." Draco shrugged, unclasping his cloak and draping it over an arm.

Millicent stepped in front of him, blocking the path to the stairwell. "No. Tell me. Please."

"It doesn't matter now."

He tried to step around her but, anticipating that, she blocked him again. "Tell me."

Sighing, he ran a hand through his hair. "I wanted you to help me decorate the common room, all right?"

Millicent blinked. "What?"

"For Christmas? Like I said, it doesn't matter. It's over now."

"But I- why didn't you just _say_ so, instead of telling me I would be doing something for you, not _asking_, and not clarifying _what_ it was you wanted help with?"

"I haven't ever asked anything of anyone, Millicent," Draco said evenly.

"You can't just tell people they're doing something for you, just assume they don't have anything better to do than follow your orders around!"

Draco didn't say anything to that. He lay a hand on her arm and squeezed between her body and the wall, starting up the staircase.

"Draco." Millicent went after him, catching up to him on the stairs. "You can't just _do_ that. That's why I got so cross with you, you realise."

He stopped on the top stair, turning around to stare down at her. One hand curled around the banister, and it must have been a hell of a grip as his knuckles were nearly white. "I always have, Millicent. And people always do what I say."

"Not me," she said, feeling almost _sorry_ for him.

"No," Draco said slowly. "Not you. You do what you like, when you like."

"Yeah," Millicent whispered. "I do."

"I don't know what to make of you, Millicent. I really bloody don't."

"Then don't make anything of me," said Millicent, confused.

"But maybe I want to," Draco said, before turning around, stepping up to the landing, and moving down the corridor, out of sight.

Millicent had no idea what the hell just happened. Maybe it was better that way.

During the rest of Christmas hols, Millicent spend a great deal of time with Draco. Together they taught the ickle Slytherins constantly lounging about the common room how to be "A Proper Slytherin", complete with spells that weren't particularly taught in Defence Against Dark Arts, retorts to daft insults from Gryffindors, useful information about vacant parts of the castle, and a few miscellaneous things here and there. Draco even managed to get Millicent out on a broom one night, insisting that she needed to learn how to fly from a qualified instructor. Madam Hooch, he'd said, was a hack. Millicent agreed and they had spent hours out on the pitch, coming in when the moon was high and their cheeks were red and raw from the wind, laughing all the way to the castle.

The day their classmates were due to return from hols on the Hogwarts Express, they found themselves alone in the common room for once. The younger Slytherins had invited them to join in a snowball battle, but they declined. Millicent had twisted her ankle the day before and Draco didn't exactly fancy getting pelted in the head by errant snowballs, so they kept one another company by the fire.

Sylvania sat in between them, occasionally nudging Draco's arm, wanting to be petted. He put up a fuss and went on about how disgusting cats were, but he pet Millicent's cat nonetheless. Sneaking a peek at him while flipping to a new chapter in her book, Millicent smirked; Draco looked to be completely enamoured with the cat, the corners of his mouth twitching as the cat turned her head this way and that, bumping her head against his hand to demand more scritches and scratches behind the ears.

"Are you laughing at me, Bulstrode?" Draco's brow furrowed and he gave her an accusing look, although the quivering of his lips betrayed his serious manner.

"Yes," Millicent said archly. "I am."

"Horrid bint," he grumbled, thrusting Sylvania at her.

"Arse," Millicent shot back blithely, dumping her cat on Draco's lap.

They traded insults and passed the cat back and forth, laughing and trying to out-smirk one another. Neither of them noticed their housemates streaming into the common room, having just returned from hols, until a shrill voice belonging to Pansy Parkinson screeched, "Just what is going on here, Draco?"

Setting Sylvania down between Millicent and himself, Draco glanced over his shoulder at the intrusion. "Hello, Pansy."

"What," she repeated, "is going on here?" Rounding the couch, Pansy stood in front of them with her hands on her hips. Millicent sat up straight, very aware of at least six pairs of eyes in addition to Pansy's trained on Draco and her.

And just like that, she felt insignificant and small again, like she was a slow, fat girl nobody who had no business mingling with proper society or some shite. This was so _stupid_. Pansy and the others were back and it wasn't just Millicent and Draco any longer. Things were going to be different and surely she didn't expect for Draco to want to hang about her forever? She had only been a distraction, the least shite option out of a load of shite options to hang about during hols. That's all. She wasn't anything but stupid fat ridiculous Millicent Bulstrode again, and how dare she have the nerve to _ever_ think otherwise.

"I'm spending time with Millicent. What do you think is going on here?"

"I'm not sure, but I don't like it, Draco."

"You're not my girlfriend, Pansy," Draco said calmly. "So stop acting like you are. You're doing nothing but embarrassing yourself here."

"I know I'm not your girlfriend," Pansy sneered. "Embarrassing? You want to talk about embarrassing?" Her voice grew shriller by the minute, and Millicent was so damned uncomfortable about all of this. She went to stand up but Draco placed a hand on her arm, stopping her.

"Stay," he said quietly to her, sliding his hand down her arm, covering her hand with his.

Millicent swallowed, her eyes dropping to their hands. Draco's hand. On top of hers. This didn't make sense, did it? Pansy was berating Draco over her and she tried to leave but he wouldn't let her and now his hand was on top of hers? Millicent didn't like to be too hopeful, but it seemed almost like...almost like...

"If you want to talk about _embarrassing_, Draco," Pansy continued, "why don't we talk about you sitting here with fat old _Millie_, acting all cosy like you're dating her or something! You're Draco Malfoy!"

"And you're a bitter slag," Draco shrugged. "Now that we've cleared that up, why don't you leave off? I'm sure there are plenty of other blokes about for you to throw yourself at."

Pansy's mouth gaped open wordlessly. Draco stood up, offering Millicent a hand. Millicent looked at it disbelievingly; was this really happening? From the way Draco was looking at her, grey eyes glimmering with something she'd not seen in them before, his mouth curved up in a small, mysterious (but mysterious in a good way) smile, Millicent knew that it was. She knew that it was and that, for the second time in only a few months, it was time for her to take a chance, to not let life pass her by. This time around, she was sure, the risk taken would be absolutely worth it, and that sometimes something good _could_ happen, even to a stupid slow fat girl like her.

"Let's go," Millicent said, taking Draco's hand and rising to her feet. Gathering Sylvania up under an arm, she glanced at Pansy's shocked, red face and then at Draco. "I think we have another snowman to make."


End file.
